


Nightwatch

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Fluff, No Slash, Romance, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Spoilers, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-16
Updated: 2004-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: AU of episode 201; what if Justin learned of Brian's late-night hospital visits? Can be read as a possible sequel toLying in Wait, but both work as stand-alone 'fics.





	Nightwatch

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Justin's head shakes from side to side as he rides out the latest of his frequent post-bashing nightmares, and Brian's neck cranes as he watches from behind the waiting room's large glass window. He's observed Justin from this window for nearly three weeks, now, and even though he knows Justin inevitably manages to shake himself out of his bad dreams - no doubt filled with images of baseball bats and bloodied formal wear - Brian's breath still catches until he succeeds. At least, he thinks, the thrashing is a sign that Justin is still alive, is no longer lying comatose and pale as the standard hospital sheets. 

"Another one?" the night nurse murmurs from behind him, and Brian jumps a little, having forgotten she was there. "Poor thing," she clucks. Brian doesn't answer, and noticing his riveted gaze, the nurse continues, "maybe you should go in and comfort hi-" 

"No."

She sighs. They've had this conversation many times, and while she's not quite sure of the specific details of their relationship, she does know that such dedication on Brian's behalf to keeping silent vigil over Justin is very touching. And yet, everytime she suggests that he sit by Justin's bedside, or leave a note for him, Brian is quick to rebuff her. "No fucking way," he snorts mirthlessly every time. "And don't tell anyone else I'm here, either." 

Again, the nurse is bewildered. She doesn't like having to remain silent as she hears the angry hushed whispers of Justin's family and friends when they visit him in the daytime. "The asshole doesn't even ask about him," a frizzy-haired woman proclaims passionately, and the nurse has to bite her lip not to inform her that Brian, the "asshole", IS in fact there, and even more devastated by Justin's state than any of them. Sometimes, she wrings her hands so much that her fingers are positively numb, but still she keeps Brian's secret, however confused by his intentions.

Brian's lips purse and his forehead tightens as Justin fists his bedding, face pinched in pain. He and the nurse both know that Justin's hopped up on enough medication to choke a small horse, so any pain he feels is "merely" mental anguish. And sure enough, the expression relaxes and the thrashing diminishes again a moment later. He pretty much ebbs and flows like this the entire night, both Brian and the nurse know this; so when the former's pager goes off, signaling that she's needed in another part of the hospital, she knows it's safe to leave Brian with Justin, knows that he's in good hands.

Brian blinks exhaustedly as Justin seems to lull back into a regular, even breathing pattern. He's hardly slept at all since his thirtieth birthday, what with throwing himself into work - to keep his mind off everything else - by day and his nightly hospital visits. He even puts in canon appearances at Babylon every so often, so nobody suspects that he's any more or less the conceited, horny asshole they've come to habituate into their lives. The same one who royally fucked up a young kid's life by crashing his high school Prom and fooling himself into believing that he belonged. The same shithead whose eyes Justin once looked straight into and said, "I'm onto you, Brian Kinney. You can't push me away." 

"Justin," Brian mouths, palm pressed to the glass, forehead resting against the clear pane. As if on cue, Brian finds himself suddenly staring into a pair of large blue eyes.

'Oh, fuck. Fuck, shit and damn,' Brian swears to himself. 

Justin doesn't move, is almost afraid to for fear that it will cause Brian to disappear as quickly as he's come. How many nights had he laid here, wanting to feel Brian's strong arms around his shoulders, to smell the older man's familiar scent, to feel Brian's hair tickle his nose? Justin blinks reluctantly, eyes watery from not having done so for a while - or perhaps because of something else - but Brian is still on the other side of the window, matching his gaze with a similarly shocked one.

'Goddammit,' Brian thinks, glancing around to make sure the nurse is still away. His legs feel leaden as he strides towards the door of Justin's room, hand snaking as the knob twists and he steps inside. He takes a deep breath as the door closes again; light from the waiting room window filters in, and it's just enough to make out Justin's curious face.

"Brian," he mouths, and the older man doesn't think he's ever been so happy to hear his name.

"H-hey, Sunshine," he whispers back. Justin makes a move to sit up, but Brian quickly rushes over and sits down in the wooden chair at his bedside. "No, don't get up," he hastens. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I've rested enough," Justin frowns, his pout so quintessentially Justin that Brian almost cries. "The fucking doctors keep telling me to go back to sleep, but I just woke up," he complains. 

Brian chuckles softly. "They just want to make sure you've stabilized," he notes quietly, eyes fluttering downwards. "To make sure you're all right."

"All right? I just got bashed in the fucking head with a goddamned baseball bat, Brian," Justin spats, and Brian pales and recoils. He knew this, he wants to say; he was there, he tried to stop it, and nobody is fucking sorrier about it than him. Justin apparently notices Brian's crestfallen expression, because a small hand is suddenly shakenly grasping for Brian's own across the bed. Searching blue eyes meet guarded hazel for the second time that evening, and Brian swallows.

"Everyone else told me you never showed up again once I got out of intensive care after those first three days," Justin says plainly. "But ... you were there all the time." It is not a question, and Brian simply bows his head in response. Justin's fingers curled even more tightly around his. "I felt it," he continues. "Sometimes I'd think I'd overhear your voice or smell your shampoo and ask why you couldn't stop by, and everyone just laughed or shook their heads." Still Brian remains silent, not trusting himself to speak, and relieved just to hear Justin's voice, even if the words were painful. 

"Were you scared?" Justin queries suddenly. "Scared to come see me and have to face everyone?" And Brian knows that Justin knows there are much more applicable words to use instead of "scared", but he's grateful for the discrepancy nonetheless.

"Yeah," he replies softly. "I was scared. I ... I didn't know if you were going to wake up, and I wasn't sure you'd want to have anything to do with me if or when you did." They lapse into silence, Justin's hand still stroking Brian's, his studious gaze on the older man's withdrawn face.

"I don't remember anything," Justin says at last. "About - that night, or anything Prom-related, actually." He snorts derisively. "I do remember asking you to come, and you turned me down." Brian's grimace deepens.

"But Daphne said you showed up after all," Justin continues as Brian swallws a lump in his throat. "She said we danced and it was really fucking awesome. "And --" he pauses and flits his eyes upwards to meet Brian's once again, "-- she said you kissed me."

"Yeah," Brian says hoarsely. "I did."

"God," Justin blurts. "I mean ... wow," he laughs. "That must have been really amazing." He sobers. "I wish I could have been there." 

Brian smooths a flaxen strand of hair off the boy's forehead. "You were," he says softly. "I know you were, because you told me it was the best night of your life."

"I want to remember," Justin murmurs. He yawns suddenly, and Brian tenderly strokes his cheek. He takes lots of naps during the day, Brian has been told, but none seem particularly fitful, not nearly enough to fully replenish the youthful energy Brian has become accustomed to. "I want you to help me remember, Brian," Justin continues, eyes closing on their own accord. 

"I will," Brian says, and feels comforted as Justin sighs and lulls himself to sleep. It's not a promise - Brian Kinney doesn't do promises - but he's pretty sure that Justin will get the distinction. 

From the waiting room, the night nurse returns and watches as Brian bends over to kiss Justin's forehead. "That's probably the best sleep he'll get here," she tells the dark-haired man as he slips back out of the private room. 

Brian tries to look completely unaffected, but fails. "Just don't fucking tell anybody," he grunts, and turns to go. His eyes aren't quite as dead as the nurse is accustomed to seeing them however, and just before he leaves, she catches the barest hint of a smile on Brian's face.


End file.
